


The First Time He Pulled Away – Mycroft’s POV

by Blood_Sucker_1428



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Epiphanies, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Light Angst, Romance, Two Shot, Workplace Relationship, mythea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blood_Sucker_1428/pseuds/Blood_Sucker_1428
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 77 of “A First Time For Everything” from Mycroft’s POV. After a long day for the both of them, Anthea accidentally does the unthinkable – she invades Mycroft’s personal space by trying to fix his hair. The man pulls away, and Anthea realises it’s time she moved on. But does Mycroft want her to move on? We’ve seen it through Anthea’s eyes, let’s see how Mycroft dealt with it all. Mythea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Time He Pulled Away

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are guys! The next special for AFTFE. You want to know why? 1500 reviews on FFN and 600 comments here. GUYS!!!! HOW??? WHY???? The fact that so many of you read my Mythea fic is incredible. Thank you for being so awesome! This fic has been incredibly fun for me and I hope you continue to enjoy it. I just, I don’t know what to say… I should say, I guess, that this will be a two parter. I plan to do the second half around Christmas – just before or just after, I don’t know. But around then. Please enjoy this little treat and thank you once again! Please read, comment, and enjoy! 
> 
> This is Chapter77 of my Mythea fic “A First Time For Everything” written in Mycroft’s point of view rather than Anthea’s. It could be read without the original but I’d suggest not for back story reasons.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

When you have a highly sought after skillset and are in a very demanding position, it is expected that once in a while you might have to fit two days’ worth of work into a single day – and some change. Some would say that it is completely acceptable for you to expect your assistant to keep up with you, while others may suggest that it is inhumane to expect any other human to run to your ghastly schedule. Just because Mycroft expected Anthea as his assistant to willingly keep up didn’t mean he didn’t feel vaguely bad about the whole thing.

The meeting in Italy had demanded both of their attentions fully and completely. An issue that was such a complete and utter mess that Mycroft had to actually put a large amount of effort into fixing, that was annoying. Watching Anthea try to keep up and take notes with Italian as her third language – that was a tad hard to watch. Of course they’d then had to work on the flight home just to keep up with their strenuous London schedule, particularly when the piolet had the gall to be late. The entire flight was nothing but papers and computer screens. The only time Mycroft and Anthea shared a word was when they were swapping documents to read.

The relief to be on home soil was clear on Anthea’s already exhausted face as they stepped out of the plane. If it were anyone else, Mycroft would be concerned that they’d collapse then and there and be a nuisance to his plans, but not Anthea, she’d keep going. But Mycroft didn’t want to ponder on Anthea’s exhaustion right now, it would lead to his own mind wandering and he’d begin to become aware of how dry and sore his eyes were feeling and that would only lead to trouble. Instead he ran through his mental checklist of documents, making sure he still had them all on his or Anthea’s person, and began to walk to the town car waiting to take him to their next appointment.

 “Ready for round two?” He hummed as he passed his assistant. He smirked to himself when he heard her moan in response, followed by dragging footsteps. No, she wasn’t, but she’d do it because she was determined and when she committed to something she saw it through.

Thus the day that followed was busy yet mundane. The mundane list of meetings were broken up only by the slightly less mundane ones, such as a meeting that if you asked him about it, Mycroft would have to deny and may have taken place in a building that doesn’t exist anymore officially, and a meeting at Downing Street. Words after words spewed at him, and Mycroft was expected to digest it all, file it away correctly, and come up with a solution in milliseconds flat. Mycroft often got fed up with people and wanted to be alone, but it wasn’t this often that he became physically and mentally strained to the point of just wanting to go home and lie down for twenty hours without disturbance. Anthea, the poor girl, looked worse than he felt. At one point she’d closed her eyes in a meeting for a good two minutes before startling herself awake. Every time someone stopped them after a meeting, Mycroft liked to take a moment to visualise all the different ways he could kill them for making his and Anthea’s day longer before letting them continue.

To say that seeing Walter’s car at the end of the day was bliss would be cutting the feeling short. It’s was bordering on euphoric... For about three seconds before the exhaustion kicked in again. But to be able to sit in that car quietly and not have to think about what meeting happens the one after the next one was incredible. Sure, he was reading the over yet another document and finding it difficult to concentrate on it – but at least he could focus on it. No distractions. Just the plush interior of the town car, the hum of the engine, and the smell of Anthea’s recently reapplied Chanel perfume.

Mycroft hazard a glance over to his assistant on her side of the car. The poor thing had her head leaning back, eyes closed, breathing deeply. It was obvious she wasn’t asleep – her breathing was timed therefore she was trying to relax. She’d tried so hard to keep up all day, and for your average person she’d done spectacularly. Always with her cheeky smiles, and bright comments, despite her weariness. She was an asset on a day like this, one that Mycroft was always pleased to have around. He should reward her for her hard work – give her a bit of a sleep in or something. God knows, she deserved it. Mycroft turned back to the document before speaking – he didn’t want to be caught looking at her with her eyes closed.

 “If you wished to arrive an hour later tomorrow morning, my dear, I’d completely understand.” He spoke in a soft voice in case he startled her. She opened her tired eyes, blinking them at the ceiling to focus, before turning to her boss. Mycroft kept his own eyes on the page of this document while he felt Anthea’s searching him. What she was looking at in particular, why she searched him so thoughoughly – she was concerned and her sleep deprivation was causing her not to be aware that she was showing it so much. She tended to do it more often these days since they’d be spending more time out of the office – really taking the time to try and deduce, for lack of a better word, how Mycroft was feeling from any little crack she could find in the ice, and she was getting a little too good at it. It sometimes made Mycroft feel a little uncomfortable, so he was happy when she took a light inhale and shook her head.

 “Not a wise idea, sir.” She hummed. Oh? Mycroft looked up from the page to meet Anthea’s gaze. She was so tired, yet there was such a warmth in her eyes as she smiled wearily. “I can’t leave you alone to sleep longer.” And there it was, that concern for his wellbeing. Something not many people displayed. He sniffed and looked down at the page, mouth threatening to pull into a smile at his hard working assistant. He should tell you not to worry about him, that he’d be fine.

 “Very well.” Was the response that came out of his mouth however, and Mycroft was painfully aware that it was due to his ridiculous want to have this snarky doll around him.

Then she was doing it again. Staring at him. Looking him over while Mycroft tried to keep his own eyes on the page. Thinking she saw things that no one else did in him, things that weren’t there. Treating him like you could treat anyone else – looking at him with a deep level of kindness that it would hurt him just to catch a glimpse of the look in her eyes. She leant forward, raising a hand.

 “Here, let me…” Anthea was on the verge of whispering as she spoke, pushing Mycroft’s hair off of his forehead and automatically, on instinct, as he’s trained to do when someone comes so close to him, Mycroft pulled away. He yanked his body into the upholstery on his side of the car, frowning at the hand that had just tried to touch him, weary that something had just tried to hurt him.

And then it dawned on him, his brain whirring to a start at full speed once more. He was aware of what had just happened. Anthea, with her hand still in mid-air was frozen, staring at Mycroft in horror at what she had just done and what he had just done. Anthea had gone to kindly, on instinct, push Mycroft’s hair back, and equally so, not used to people coming so close into his physical space without intention of damage, Mycroft pulled away. And here they were, both exhausted, full of confusion and fear. Fear at what will happen now as they were frozen, looking at each other, wondering how the other was going to react, afraid to say or do anything.

Anthea swallowed her breath as she slowly lowered her hand, pulling it close to her chest protectively.

 “Sorry…” She mumbled quietly, the china doll now looking like a hurt puppy who wanted to apologize to its owner for getting in the way. She looked dishearten, and now completely and utterly exhausted. Yet all Mycroft could think about was the moment as it had happened. It replayed in his head at least ten times before he managed to shift back up into seated position. Not having the heart to meet Anthea’s hurt gaze once again, Mycroft positioned himself facing his window.

 “Yes…” His voice almost cracked, so Mycroft cleared his throat, left hand grabbing blindly for the comfort of his umbrella. Something to focus on. “Well…” He tried to continue but found no words.

_Maybe apologise also? That could prove to be quite effective._

But every time he tried to open his mouth again, no words would come out.

So the car lulled into silence.

Deep, painful silence.

And it stayed that way.

The remainder of the ride to Anthea’s flat building was spent in silence, with neither daring to speak, neither daring to look each other’s way. Mycroft stared out his window, Anthea stared forward at the back of the seat in front of her. The tension was thick, the air was tough to breath, but no one wanted to relieve the tension in case in made way for an argument. That couldn’t be.

As the car pulled up in front of Anthea’s building, Mycroft’s grip on the handle of his umbrella increased. Anthea, whether she wanted to say something or wanted Mycroft to say something, tapped her fingers on her handbag. Mycroft didn’t want to see an apologetic look in her eyes, or fear. He couldn’t handle fear in her eyes, not after they’d be getting along so swimmingly recently. So, when Anthea placed her hand on the handle and looked Mycroft’s way, he could do nothing but look out the window and grit his teeth. There was a pause, a brief hesitation, before Anthea pulled the car door open and left.

Not even Walter dared to say something after that.

* * *

 

Despite his deep need to get some sleep, when Mycroft arrived at home he found himself with thoughts flying too rapidly in his head to even consider the idea of sleeping straight away. Instead, the man did what he often did when wracked with a personal dilemma. He poured himself a glass of scotch – the medium stuff, this wasn’t worth the good stuff – went to lounge room, sat in one of his nice chairs, and tried to sort through his thoughts.

This was not a hard one to work out – it was merely a hard one to lay to rest. When Anthea had gone in, violating practically all their unspoken rules, and moved to do a kind, familial gesture, she’d unwittingly broken them. She had done it completely on instinct – her brain working at a low state of energy, much as he did when he flinched away from a hand coming towards his face. No, he was not at all annoyed with Anthea for doing what she did, though he ought to be. The fact that they’d gotten so close that she instinctively thought she could do that really should frighten Mycroft about their relationship. It didn’t, however. And that’s what was the most frightening. That he was not put off by her trying such a thing – a thing he hadn’t even let Mummy do since his university graduation.

The fact of the matter was, he was put off by the look of panic, guilt, and horror on Anthea’s face after he’d pulled away. How hurt she’d been by him, and how embarrassed she was by her own behaviour. Those eyes full of more terror than he’d ever seen. It was haunting him. Anthea couldn’t be blamed on that, Mycroft completely understood her motivation – or lack thereof. Sure, she shouldn’t have done it, but it had been his reaction that had cause that look.

As he stared down at the half empty glass of scotch, Mycroft realised he’d have to do what he hated doing most. He’d have to apologise. He’d not say he was wrong – he was running on less sleep than Anthea – but he’d say if he was in control of his entire self, then he wouldn’t have done such a thing and set out to hurt her. He’d tell her that there was nothing she did was wrong, per se, and that she really didn’t have to have apologized in the car.

And really, he didn’t completely mind it if she wanted to make such a kind gesture…

But that was a far more complex thought for his brain to comprehend right now. The idea that Anthea’s touch was not completely unwelcomed. No, that can stay away for now.

Right now, Mycroft would finish this glass and then hopefully get some sleep.

* * *

 

Mycroft had spent a good portion of the morning steeling himself in order to talk to Anthea. Deciding precisely what to say – how to save her from any hurt feelings, how to stop himself coming off as needy in any shape of form, and how to say sorry in a way that she knew he meant it. He’d been working at the same time, of course. One can’t wait all their efforts on something that isn’t productive… or destructive.

Mycroft exited his office and found himself standing to the side of Anthea, her eyes wandering up to his face almost immediately. Finding his efforts to steel himself not as effective has he thought – hesitation emerging – Mycroft pinched his nose and winced as he turned to face Anthea.

 “Miss James,” He sighed painfully. “About yesterday-” A knowing look crossed Anthea’s soft features as she smiled, held up her hands, and shook her head lightly.

 “No, it’s okay sir.” Her kind tone was concerning. “I know what you’re going to say.” Mycroft pursed his lips. He highly doubted that she expected him to say sorry, but he allowed Anthea to continue regardless – to see if she could find a way to describe what happened any better. Make Mycroft understand better why he felt so bad about it. The brunette lowered her hands, placing them on her knees. The rigid pressure in her grasp was also concerning – it suggested that she too was steeling herself to say something she didn’t really want to say. “I realise what happened yesterday was wrong, and that I was out of line.” Mycroft narrowed his eyes. No, it wasn’t wrong. It was perhaps out of line, but he wasn’t going to tell her she was wrong. _She_ wasn’t wrong. Anthea tilted her head, her body trying to come off as playful as she normally did to hide the tension below the surface. “I think I needed yesterday to happen. I think it was the shock I needed once and for all to prove that tis attraction is all one sided and that I was just getting myself into a deeper hole.”

_Oh?_

_Well…_

 Mycroft willed himself to not so much as quirk an eyebrow. He stayed perfectly still with no tells.

She was right. She was digging herself deeper and deeper into a pit. Then again, somewhere along the lines, hadn’t he began to help her dig the pit?

When did he start digging her pit deeper?

When had he fallen into the hole?

He’d slipped and almost fallen in a few times. Might have even got his shoes covered in dirt that never came off after that whole dress thing. Might just stopped himself from falling in when she kissed him. But when had he fallen in and instead of climbing out decided to help her dig?

Good Lord, falling in to pits could only lead to broken bones and sprains.

Apparently Anthea had paused at that moment, and Mycroft was aware of how fast his thoughts were racing by how long it seemed to take Anthea to brush a single curl out of her face.

 “You don’t need to tell me to behave better because from now on, I’m going to try and move on.” And there was that physical pain in his chest that she sometimes caused in Mycroft, except this time it was strong enough for him to have to avoid visibly reacting. The PA shrugged her shoulders and let out an almost defeated sounding breath, that sad smile plastered on her painted lips. “Now I can just focus on being your assistant and your friend only if you want it.”

_That’s…._

Mycroft blinked. He turned to look past Anthea at the wall behind her.

Right. This was good. This was what was necessary. Anthea had found a way out of the pit, and she was extending a hand to help him out of it too. Friends. That’s what they do, correct? Help each other out of difficult situations?

This is what he’d always wanted, right? For Anthea to be his amazing, astounding, incredibly talented personal assistant, and nothing more? Mycroft was frozen somewhere in his mind, but he knew he had to speak, had to say something. Just. Anything.

 “… Yes.” He hummed, brow furrowing deeper. “Well…” His body began to turn towards his door. Come on. Add something.

_That’s not what I was going to say._

_Only if that’s what you want._

_Are you sure?_

Any of those would do. Any of those would work fine. But none of them would sound correct.

 “That does sound like me…” What she had said, it suited everything he’d been telling her up to this point. It was long overdue that the young lady move on. That she find a new Tim, _a better Tim_ , and find some form of happiness in her personal life. The idea that she wouldn’t be around so much for dinners and events, that hurt. It hurt a little too much, but it’s what he had wanted for a long time. Then why was he staring at the metaphoric hand now outstretching to pull him out of the pit as if it had just tried to touch him? “Back to work, then.” Mycroft began walking forward, back to his office, back to his solitude. He couldn’t say what, but he turned around to look at Anthea once more. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to the girl with the chocolate curls and the deep confusion in her eyes, but then… what would he say? She was free. It was good. It was what he’d always wanted.

Mycroft continued the automatic footsteps to his office, closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

 

A week passed where things, as far as Anthea or anyone was concerned, returned to normal. To Mycroft, it was a week of keeping himself busy. When he wasn’t at her actual job, he was doing freelance work, or sleeping. He dared not give his mind time to rest, or to wander. Every time it did, it went back to Anthea and how she’d managed to get herself out of the pit.

Surely she wasn’t out of it. She’d dug it so deep, there’s no way she’d conveniently be able to climb out of it on sheer will alone like that, no. Definitely not. She’d simply finally dedicated herself to try and get out with all her energy. She’d stopped digging it, and now she was going to put all her effort into getting out. And rightly so. For so long, Mycroft had tried to push Anthea away, to get rid of these feelings so he wouldn’t lose someone so dear to him to the follies of the human heart. It was good that she’d dedicated herself to moving on. If someone deserved to find happiness in their private life, it was Alice Clarke. If it was such a good idea, then why did it keep plaguing Mycroft’s mind? Lurking dangerously in the shadows of his thoughts, just waiting to grab him by the ankle.

That week passed, and Mycroft and Anthea found themselves stuck in a meeting with finance. Budgeting, overspending, yada, yada, yada. Stuff that didn’t really matter. If they really wanted Mycroft to watch his spending he’d throw some of his own money into it – he was going to spend whatever he needed to. Really, who was more important? Advertisement for the next election, or the person who saw to the election? After enough negotiating, Mycroft ended up with a far nicer budget than he’d had in a couple of years. That should teach them not to negotiate with someone so far out of their league.

With that completed, Anthea was itching to get out of the board room, and Mycroft was itching to get back to their quiet abode. Both made no effort to hide their relief when the meeting was completed as they began packing up and chatting only to each other. That’s when that accountant approached. The young one who started the week after Anthea. The one who’d passed most of his university units with only a few marks. The one who fell in love easily and let it affect his work. The one who clearly spent more time at the gym than he did looking over his files. He was lucky he was harmless and easy to get to look passed certain expenses. The young man with the ill placed priorities approached Mycroft and Anthea. What was his name? If Mycroft searched he’d find it…. Kiernan…. David. Yes.

 “Excuse me, Mr. Holmes.” He interrupted the pair’s talk with a polite tone and a light nod. To give the boy credit, he didn’t flinch when Anthea and Mycroft looked upon him like he’d interrupted them in the middle of diffusing a bomb. The boy’s breathing was erratic – but it didn’t seem to be because of intimidation. He’d spoken to Mycroft enough not to be intimidated. Then what was he nervous about? “I was wondering if I could borrow your PA for a moment.” Oh! That’s why.

_No. No. You could not talk to her. No._

Mycroft scowled.

 “Anything you wish to say to my assistant, Mr. Kiernan, you may say in front of me.” Mycroft hummed, keeping his tone characteristically void of emotion. One side of David’s mouth pulled up into somewhat of an embarrassed smile.

 “I would, but you see, this is a rather personal matter…”

_Yes, I understand that. That is why I’m trying to get you to go away._

 “Oh.” Anthea perked up in her seat as she turned to look at Mycroft, who was doing his best not to glare at the young accountant. He turned to meet Anthea’s gaze. As soon as he met those eyes, he felt his façade almost falter.

She wants to move on. This is her business. Help her. Let her.

 _But I don’t want to_.

Why? Why did he not want to help her? She needed to stop caring about him so much. And he needed not to care. Caring is not an advantage. Mycroft turned his head, looking away, as he waved her off before his brain could argue again.

 “Be quick.” He moaned. He meant quick as possible. He meant for her to dismiss the boy quickly and then they’d carry on because really, Anthea James, the mysterious assistant, could get anyone she wants and why would she settle for a second rate accountant? Anthea hopped out of her seat to follow Kiernan to the other side of the conference table. How that was private when Mycroft could still hear every word being spoken anywhere in the room, he had no idea. People. Mycroft began tapping his nails on the desk at a very fast pace. He was impatience, and irritated. This needed to be quick so they could get back to work and he could get back to feeling normal.

 “So…” David began. Taking his time, trying to find his words, the buffoon. Anthea smiled warm and sympathetically, like she did to all the idiots who she felt sorry for.

 “How can I help you, David?” She asked kindly. The accountant cleared his throat, looking at the ground to gather his thoughts, before looking up at Mycroft’s assistant. Mycroft’s nails were beginning to hurt due to the force he was putting into the tapping.

 “I was wondering if you would like to go to dinner with me sometime this week.” Mycroft froze, feeling momentarily ill. He felt his stomach twist. Anthea frowned as she looked at David in the eyes. A recovery breath, and Mycroft continued tapping to avoid suspicion, at a slower pace so he might hear better over the noise.

 “Oh…” Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear nervously and looked at the floor. She seemed very unsure. Good. David rubbed the back of his neck.

 “I understand if you’re not free…” He trailed off.

_No. She’s not free. Her weekend is split between her friends, her books, and me. Where are you supposed to fit in?_

 “No. I’m free.” Anthea shook her head, sending her curls dancing forward to frame her face once again. She smiled brightly. “I have no reason not to go out.” She was trying to assure herself. That was somewhat true… somewhat… And what about the time they’d been spending together on the weekends? “I’d love to go out with you.”

The tapping stopped.

Mycroft felt sick. His stomach churn, and all the air was sucked out of his lungs, leaving him breathless and feel like he could be sick any second.

_She can’t._

_She’s climbing out of the pit._

_She can’t leave me in here, not when she pulled me in._

_I didn’t want to be in here._

Mycroft had to close his eyes momentarily to settle his stomach.

 “Great.” He heard David chirp happily. “Text me your number and we’ll arrange something.” Mycroft looked back in time to see Anthea playing with a card in her hand. He’d given her a card. How pompous. How conceited. How disgusting. But Anthea was smiling.

 “Okay.” She brought the card closer to her heart, clearly enjoying the scenario. “I will.” And with that David walked out of the room grinning from ear to ear, with Anthea watching him walk away with a small smile on her face. And all Mycroft could think about was how this meant Anthea would spend less time with him out of work and how that just didn’t seem fair.

As Anthea approached Mycroft found he couldn’t force himself to appear bored of casual, the ill feeling in his stomach not going away. So he settled for stony. He settled for nothing. Anthea kept her coy smile as she began packing up, ignoring the genius to her side. If this was a sign of things to come Mycroft didn’t like it. He looked the brunette woman up and down, wondering how she could do that. How could she so easily go out with another man when she was supposed to be in love with him? It’s not supposed to be that easily to stop loving someone. It’s not supposed to be a switch. Then again, what did he know about love?

 “Well, that was forward.” Mycroft bemoaned, finding his voice.

 “What was?” Anthea asked lightly.

 “Asking you out right in front of your boss.” His voice was snippy, Mycroft could hear it but he couldn’t stop it. Anthea chuckled lightly, ignoring Mycroft’s tone completely.

 “Not really.” She laughed. “People meet at work all the time.” She picked up her briefcase and her handbag. “Plus, I think it will be good for me.”

 “Yes…”

_It might be very good for you, but it might kill me._


	2. The First Time He Pulled Her In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, guys! I told you I’d add the second half around Christmas… It just happened to be on Christmas. I worked hard to get this done for you. You all really liked the first half so I REALLY hope this is okay. I have no idea, honestly. I hope you like it <3\. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Forty-five minutes. Mycroft noted this time just as he watched the minute hand do another full rotation of the clock.

Forty-five five minutes ago, David Kiernan was supposed to pick Anthea James up for their date. That means forty-eight minutes ago he arrive at her building, always early by a few minutes but no more – must not look eager. They’d then arrive at a mediocre restaurant that was decent by their standards. The young couple would have talked for a little while, Anthea laughing the way she does and twirling her hair around her finger playfully and to purposely look ‘cute’ as she’d call it. After which they’d order. He’d order champagne because it’s cliché and how could he know that Anthea much preferred spirits – scotch particularly. She’d drink it to be polite and pretend she really liked it. About now their entrées would have arrived. Now that the food had arrived they’d moved on from light conversation to date conversation. Anthea would ask about his family, because that hole left by hers is still a little close to her heart, and she can’t help herself. David would ask about hers, and to avoid the sadness – after briefly covering what happened in a quick sentence – Anthea would talk about Jamie, and James, and probably Mycroft himself.

Mycroft sneered as he tried to focus on reading his book. He couldn’t even tell you where he was up to in his book. No matter what he did, Mycroft’s mind would not focus. It just kept going back to _her and him_. Even _The Divine Comedy_ , his favourite story as a child, was now tainted with memories of _her_ as she tried to read it in Italian. It was sickening. It was idiotic. Mycroft tried to focus on the book.

_The little boat of my intellect now sets sail, to course through gentler waters, leaving behind her a sea so cruel…_

Anthea crinkling her nose and making a jab at David.

David leaning over and holding Anthea’s hand.

_And I will speak of that second region, where the human spirit is purged, and becomes fit to climb to Heaven…_

David walking shoulder to shoulder with Anthea as he walked her home.

David making Anthea laugh so lightly and freely as she does.

Mycroft scoffed and turned the page.

_The sweet colour of eastern sapphire, that gathered on the skies clear forehead, pure as far as the first sphere, restored delight to my eyes, as soon as I had issued from the dead air, which constrained my eyes and heart._

David kissing Anthea goodnight.

Anthea _enjoying_ it.

Mycroft closed the book and tossed it onto his coffee table. He folded his fingers together and placed them firmly against his lips. This won’t do, this won’t do at all. Reading wasn’t helping him, his mind is too complex to focus on such a task without being able to wander. He’d considered getting a drink but really, is that what he needed right now? Clouded judgement? It could only lead to stupidity.

So what should he do then instead of reading? Stare into the nothingness and think of that girl. The girl with the chocolate curls, with the spark of wit and humour in her eyes, with the knowing smile. The girl who could break him with a lost look, or make him with a little encouragement. Was he to sit here and think of her enjoying the company of a low level employee who wasn’t good enough for her? To think of David enjoying the company of someone so rare? Would he even appreciate her? The lawyer did at first… _At first_. Then he’d broken the doll’s heart. He’d reached an untouchable and managed to hurt her. By the looks of it no one had done that before, she’d always been strong and independent, and so many people out there wouldn’t appreciate that.’

Mycroft supposed it was time to face facts. Somewhere along the lines he’d become attracted to Anthea James.

He always knew she was an attractive woman, that wasn’t to be argued with, but he wasn’t one to be attracted to… people. They were all far too annoying, useless, and unappealing for all of that business. Also, one in this line of work should steel their heart against others. What was interesting was somewhere along the lines she’d made him like her. He enjoyed her company, was pleased to make her laugh and smile, didn’t care if she turned up at his house. After some time that turned into an… attraction. If he was honest, he’d realised with that dress. That red and black monstrosity that had turned Mycroft into just another blithering idiot. That was the perfect mix of physical appeal and personal connection that night, and it had been hard to turn off since.

And then she’d kissed him, and he hadn’t known what to think since. So when they’d started spending more time together Mycroft couldn’t stop it, though he knew he should. He wanted to pay for dinner, he wanted to take her to that ghastly play. He’d go to an art gallery just to see her appreciate it and show off her own intelligence by talking art.

He’d fallen down that pit a long time ago, hadn’t he?

The issue that arose from this was what was he going to do about it? How would he climb out of the pit? He didn’t want to take the hand of someone else, the way Anthea was currently doing… with David Kiernan. Mycroft could not think of an idea he disliked more than that. But what were the other options? Try to drag himself out tooth and nail? That’s what he was trying to do tonight and look where it got him. A messy brain with thoughts flying all over the place. He couldn’t live with that for as long as it took to get out of the pit. The other option was to just sit down, alone, in this pit that someone else had dug. But he didn’t want that. Mycroft didn’t want to sit down in this pit all alone while Anthea climb out with the help of the outstretched hand of an accountant. He didn’t want to watch her walk away and out of his life. That’s why he’d carefully constructed so many walls and barriers around his emotions in the first place, if no one can get in then there’s no pain when they walk away. And this was hurting. Anthea being happy with someone else, spending her evenings with someone else, making a mess attempting to cook for someone else. It caused Mycroft physical pain.

He couldn’t do it anymore.

He wouldn’t do it anymore.

When one is hurt, you do what you can to fix the injury and stop the pain. The injury was his and Anthea’s relationship. The pain was that she was moving on.

They’d been going out together? Didn’t that mean anything? He’d stayed at her home instead of going out. A flat where Miss Thompson lived. They’d been… developing their friendship. He liked to see her smile, he did so much that he wouldn’t do for anyone else. Couldn’t she see how important she was to him? Couldn’t she see that she’d been dragging him down? Was he so good at the Ice Man routine that even Anthea couldn’t see that he actually wanted to be around her?

Mycroft Holmes was not one to date. He was not one to have people that can be extorted other than the family members that already exist. He was not one to have a girlfriend or a boyfriend, or a partner in marriage for that matter.

But Mycroft Holmes couldn’t stand the idea of Anthea James with another man and he had to do something about it.

She’d made him fall into this pit, and he was not going to sit in it alone. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

 

Mycroft sat in Anthea’s armchair, hands placed together and held firmly at his lips as he stared at the blank television screen, lost in thought. He’d turned up to her flat with a plan as to how to stop the girl climbing out of the pit. It was impulsive and had multiple ways of failing. Now Mycroft was particularly glad he hadn’t drunk tonight. God knows what decisions he would have made had his mind been clouded with alcohol.

This could backfire in many ways. For example, Anthea could bring Mr. Kiernan up to her flat, but knowing her as well as he did, the likelihood of Anthea bringing up a man she honestly saw a possibly future with on the first date was only five percent. She could tear him to pieces for picking her lock and getting into her flat, but she knew him as well as he knew her, and the chances of her being angry enough to do that was twenty percent. Jamie could turn up here, but that was slim to none, being occupied with James and all. The highest possible negative outcome was that Anthea would slap him – and that was sitting firmly at fifty percent chance. Regardless, this was going to make an effect on the young lady, and that would be a sound result.

All he had to do for now was sit here and wait for her. Wait for Anthea to come home from a date, see him there, and question his presence. He’d then tell her exactly why he’d turned up.

He heard the front door open, and a light sigh as Anthea dropped her purse on, by the sounds of it, her dining table. As her heels clicked on the floor coming closer and closer, Mycroft kept his eyes firmly on the television set, steeled against any reaction. The noise stopped just at the makeshift entrance to this half of the room.

 “Mycroft?” Her heard Anthea splutter his name in shock and disbelief. He looked over to her. The brunette’s carefully styled curls were now falling out, looking soft as the waves barely caressed her face. She was wearing a faded dark blue dress, she knew blue made her complexion look soft. “How did you-” Anthea stopped herself, closing her eyes and swallowing as she redirected her sentence. She knew he could get anywhere he wanted to and she was too smart to ask a stupid question. “ _What_ are you doing in my flat?” That was a complicated question to answer and would take far too long to answer. Would he say he couldn’t stand the idea of her out with someone else? No. Would he say he just wanted to make sure she still looked at him the same way? Never. Would he tell her his plan? Mycroft looked Anthea up and down very carefully as he held his neutral mask to his face. She didn’t need to know what he was thinking.

 “How was your date?” It slipped out of his mouth with far more venom than he had intended. He’d only meant to slightly emphasise the word date, and not seethe it the way he did. Anthea’s brows faintly furrowed.

 “Fine.” She answered quickly. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow.

 “Just… ‘fine’?” He asked, tilting his head. How curious. People tended to say fine when they didn’t want to admit the truth. Seems Anthea caught on to the game. She closed her eyes and shook her head, more hair falling from behind her back to in front of her shoulders.

 “No. It was more than fine.” She defended herself, opening her eyes. “It was great, actually.” Mycroft pursed his lips, looking Anthea up and down, reading her. She says great, but her eyes didn’t light up the way he suspected they would, the way they did when he took her out. Didn’t she notice that? Mycroft turned back to the television. He just needed an opening but he wasn’t going to force something. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the personal assistant pinch the bridge of her nose. She lowered it with a hard shrug. “Mycroft, why are you here?” She huffed, sounding exasperated. Mycroft did his best not to let his lip twitch into a smile. This might be his opening.

 “I’m here for something of a social experiment.” He hummed in a bored tone. Anthea’s lip pulled up in a confused sneer. She looked as if he was speaking another language, but Mycroft was used to people looking at him that way.

 “A what?” She asked. That was it, that was his cue. With a quick glance over to the confused brunette, Mycroft swiftly got to his feet and walked to Anthea, stopping just before her. He was so close he could smell the Chanel she’d placed on her neck, it was almost intoxicating. Anthea, the colour flushing from her face, had to look away. Most likely something causing the same reaction that her perfume was to him. He hadn’t even begun and the experiment was a success. Who else could do this to him and he could do it back? He watched Anthea’s soft pink lips part as she slowly let out a breath. This was it, if he was ever going to be able to do this experiment, it had to be now. He had to recreate that spark.

As Anthea turned back, questions written all over her face, Mycroft had to silence her. No questions now, this had to be right. He placed his hand on the side of her face, palm cupping her cheek, thumb firmly under her jawbone. He was tempted to caress her face but it fit too perfectly in his hand to dare move it. She looked up into his steely eyes with her dark orbs. There were questions still on her lips, but they were fading with the electricity Mycroft had just sparked. It was perfect. This must have been what Hades felt like when he first laid eyes on Persephone. Mycroft leant forward and pushed his lips against Anthea’s. She didn’t jolt back and slap him like she might have, nor did she pull away. Anthea, after the initial shock had passed melted into the kiss, falling further into Mycroft’s grasp. It was the most gentle and tender experience Mycroft had ever had in his entire adult life. This gentle creature in his touch, feeling her fall further into their shared experience. This was it. This was not the passion and the spark of that initial kiss. This was their connection. This is why she shouldn’t climb out of the pit. Where else would you find this?

Mycroft pulled away from the kiss first, then after a moment of hesitation as his mind wandered briefly, he removed his hand. That was… very successful. His stoned his face, placing the ice back where the warmth had been. Mycroft cleared his throat and straightened his tie as Anthea looked him over with hazy vision.

 “Thank you for participating.” He nodded, and walked out of the living room and out of the flat. He closed the front door behind him, making sure it was locked.

Excellent, now he might be able to sleep tonight.

* * *

 

Anthea came storming into Mycroft’s office the next morning, fire in her eyes, figurative guns blazing. To be honest, it was expected. She stopped right in front of his desk, arms folded tight against her chest, lips parted. Mycroft looked up from his phone to take in his assistant.

 “Good morning, Miss James.” He hummed politely. He pulled back slightly and tilted his head to examine her closer. The brunette’s hair was in its natural wavy state, there were bags under her eyes and her complexion seemed flushed still. All this indicated that the PA had been up all night. “Did you not sleep last night?” He asked, just to confirm. Anthea scoffed, outstretching her arms in a large shrug.

 “How could I sleep after that?” Her voice was raised and on the verge of yelling. Mycroft pouted his lips and shrugged.

 “I slept fine.” He told her as his placed his phone down by his keyboard. What had started off as a horrible night ended up being quite a nice one for him. The thought of Anthea with David… that was driving him closer and closer to the brink of insanity. He’d fixed that. He looked back up to Anthea to see her open and close her hands into fists by her side. She was trying her best to calm herself apparently.

 “What was that, last night?” She asked, seething. At least it was better than almost yelling. Mycroft turned to his computer, pulling up his emails.

 “I told you, my dear, a social experiment.” He answered calmly as he began answering an email. Really, why did people ask questions they already knew the answer to? It tended to be annoying. Apparently this answer wasn’t satisfying.

“What social experiment?” Anthea laughed, stepping closer to the desk. “Kissing me? Ruining my date? How’s that an experiment?” Mycroft turned back to Anthea, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

_Did she just say ‘ruining her date’? How wonderful. Perfect, even._

 “Ruined your date, did I?” The genius couldn’t keep the smugness he was feeling out of his voice.  Anthea rubbed her eyes in frustration.

 “Mycroft.” She warned, looking back at the genius with a molten glare. He could only shrug with one shoulder.

 “I was simply demonstrating the difference between kissing someone you have chemistry with and kissing a random man from work who happened to ask you out.” He felt himself tense at the mere description of David. Surely, the difference was obvious to her. Surely she could see that David, like Tim, wouldn’t be good enough for her. Anthea ran her hand through her hair as she clearly struggled with the conversation.

 “Why, Mycroft?” She rose her voice again, looking down and meeting his gaze. “You don’t want to date anyone and I’m single. Are you trying to torment me?” Mycroft looked down at his desk, folding his hands together. He honestly felt something at the accusation that he was tormenting her.

_No, never._

_Not intentionally._

He’d accidentally hurt her before, but that’s not what this was. This was… because of them.

 “No, I’m not tormenting you.” He sighed, still watching his hands instead of meeting her gaze. What did he say now? That she was meant to spend her evening with him? That they were too close to each other to let someone else in. That she’d dragged him kicking and screaming into her pit and now he couldn’t get out? “I was merely under the impression that we were coming to…” Coming to what? Mycroft Holmes didn’t date. They weren’t coming to a relationship, not like that. They had simply decided silently to start going to dinner, and plays, and the like together. “An understanding.” Anthea’s mouth fell open as she looked at Mycroft like he’d just admitted to immense horrors. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head, frozen like that for a moment. Eventually the girl shook her head quickly.

 “An understanding?” She scoffed. “What is that?” Mycroft’s face contorted to show the mixture of emotions he didn’t want to have but was feeling. It should be obvious. Did you see him doing that sort of thing for anyone else?

 “You don’t see anyone, and in return neither do I.”

A pause. Anthea’s face fell flat.

 “Mycroft, you don’t see anyone anyway.” Her tone was as flat as her expression. “Even Charlotte knows that.”

 “I know…” Mycroft muttered. Anthea looked away, over at the bookshelf. She was giving herself a moment to calm down. That meant he might be able to get through to her. She looked back at Mycroft, eyes still fiery but they’d definitely cooled.

 “So you want me to sit around being single forever, is that it?” She asked. _Well_ … Mycroft cocked his head to the side. That’s not what he’d call it, but sort of… Anthea laughed in surprise at her boss’ reaction.

 “I can’t do that, Mycroft.” She stepped forward, holding her right hand above her heart. “This hurts me too much, already. I can’t sit around because you don’t want anyone else to have me.” Her voice was calm as she spoke from the heart. He knew it was hurting her, he really did. But didn’t she see what she did to him? “When did this become an issue, anyway?” She breathed. She didn’t know? Really?

 “I’ve been taking you places…” Mycroft stopped himself from wincing as he heard the weak words escape his mouth. It sounded far more pathetic than he’d anticipated. Anthea’s eyes narrowed.

 “You mean our non-dates?”

 “Oh.” Mycroft perked up in his seat. “Is that what you’ve been calling them?” He asked, considering it, letting the term dance around in his mind. “Seems appropriate enough.” This was from the woman who’d named the office at the Diogenes club “the Dungeon”, he shouldn’t be surprised by yet another term. Anthea seemed frustrated as she rubbed her eyes with her hands. It seems Mycroft wasn’t giving her the answers she wanted.

 “What do you want, Mycroft?” She spat out, placing her hands firmly on her hips. “Spell it out for me, okay?” Mycroft leaned back in his chair as he attempted to explain his idea to Anthea. That was a far more complicated question that it seemed to be at first glance. He wanted it to stay the same… but he just wanted to see her more. She made him smile. He made her smile. That was all. He might as well start with that.

 “This understanding is that we do not see other people, under the agreement that we spend more time with each other outside of work hours.” Anthea’s lip pulled up as she cocked her head to the side, looking utterly lost.

 “So that kiss.” She gestured with her hands as she talked, as if it would help clear it up. “Is this kissing thing part of your understanding?” Mycroft scoffed, turning back to his email.

 “Please, Miss James, we’re not dating.”

A pause.

Anthea took a deep breath and let it out at a slow and steady rate. Mycroft kept typing.

 “I can’t do that, sir. I’m sorry.”

_What?_

Steel eyes flickered back up to Anthea’s face, narrowing wanting her to elaborate. Her toned had just sounded so pained when she said that, why was she saying no? What was she doing?

“I’m not going to be your pet. I told you that a long time ago, when you threw an NDA in my face for _me_ kissing _you_ unexpectedly.” She wasn’t a pet, she had to know that. He’d tried so hard since that incident to prove that she was valued. And the NDA incident was different. It had been adrenaline and out of the blue, not like this, not like how he’d planned it. He had to make her feel valued, to feel like she wouldn’t be a pet. What could he give her that he’d never give anyone else? What could he offer up?

 “Well…” Mycroft’s upper lip pulled up and he frowned, thinking about what he was just going to say. He wouldn’t do this unless he had to. “I could offer you other signs of affection, including…” He scowled. “Hugs.” Anthea’s face momentarily broke into a smile as she almost blurted out a laugh. As soon as it came, however, it was gone, and the girl had folded her arms across her chest.

 “I need more than that.” Well, at least she was willing to negotiate. That was better than that no that had almost knocked him off his seat. Mycroft was really going to have to offer something up to her for her to take the offer. He was going to have to hand something over to her on a silver platter. He couldn’t hand over all that she wanted, he couldn’t give her a proper dating relationship, and it was too hard and too dangerous. What he could give her though, was a little bit of honesty. He’d need to drop away the mask and let her see how he felt. So that’s what he did, he allowed himself to be open and honest for the first time in a long time, and he spoke honestly.

 “Alice. For some unknown reason I don’t like you not around me. I don’t do people, this is very new to me. Grant me this and, although I can’t promise you anything more will come if it, I will try.” The honest approached seemed to be working as Anthea’s eyes cooled further and her face softened. He could do this, he could stay open long enough for her to see. It was painful, but it would be worth it. “And I’m not used to people other than Mummy trying to touch me in a way that isn’t to hurt me, so if I’m tired and caught off guard, I might just pull away, but that does not mean you can go out and accept dates from men in the finance department.” Ah, he’d let a little too much of his personal hurt slip out there, but it had made Anthea involuntarily laugh and a soft smile grace her lovely face once more. That made it worth it. Maybe it humanised him to her.

Mycroft allowed Anthea a silent moment of contemplation as he could see her thoughts bouncing around in her brain. Her breathing was off, and she looked like she might just as easily fall back into anger as she might agree to this. When she looked back over to Mycroft, eyes searching his face, emotions flickered through them, her face fell into a frown. Yet she began nodding.

“Okay…” She muttered quietly as she continued to frown. “Okay.” It was louder and slightly snappy. “An understanding…” She was testing the word on her tongue. “I could give it a bit of a test run.” Mycroft quirked his eyebrow but dared not open his mouth yet to interrupt her. “But if either of us work out that it’s not going anywhere, then I’m out of it.” She pointed sharply at him. “Because I’m wasting so much time on you, Mycroft Holmes. Don’t make me waste an extra minute if it can be helped.” What do you say to that? Mycroft nodded quietly. Anthea nodded in return. She shrugged, still the fierceness of a hint of anger in every movement. “So how do we seal an ‘understanding’?” It came off with more vehement distaste than it seemed either of them were expecting, but Mycroft ignored it and took the words at their face value.

 “I could offer you a handshake?” He opened his hands.

 “Okay.” The brunette nodded lightly.

Ah, well here it goes… Mycroft took his time to get out of his chair. He stretched out his back and neatened his clothes. Slowly he walked over and stopped in front of Anthea, offering out his hand. Anthea looked down at it, suspiciously. As if she expected him to have one of those practical joke buzzers on his hand. She seemed to assure herself as she took his hand and they shook on it. Ah, but it didn’t seem right. This is not how one closes the deal on something like this. It should be more than that, it should be something to seal it, something to remember. Almost like signing a contract. That’s when the idea came.

Mycroft felt awkward and rigid as he tugged on Anthea’s hand, pulling the girl into his personal space. Unsure as to what he was exactly doing, he awkwardly placed his free arm over her shoulder to rest his hand on her back. Anthea seemed just as rigid as he did in her confusion, but as she was pulled in loser she seemed to realise what was going on and slowly the girl melted into the hug similarly to how she melted into the kiss. As she placed her hand on the small of his back and gently rested her forehead against his chest, Mycroft felt the awkwardness dissipate and that familiarity and comfort set back in. They fit together so well. As he rested his cheek against the top of her head, he took in the scent of her to file away safely in his Mind Palace.

Mycroft gently rubbed Anthea’s back in what he presumed was a soothing manner before he pulled himself away. Anthea blinked to herself, lost in thought, as Mycroft straightened up his suit. He walked over to his desk and sat back down. With all that done and settled, it was time to get to work for the day.

 “Now, Miss James.” He sung, turning back to his computer and finally sending that email. “There is a list of names I sent to you in an email. I need you and Walter to go collect some information from all of those people for me.” Gathering herself together, Anthea cleared her throat and nodded.

 “Yes, sir.” She’d switched on her work tone too, always professional. That’s one of the reasons she was so great at what she did. She turned and began walking out of Mycroft’s inner office and back out to the main room. There was just one thing he couldn’t resist doing before she left the room.

 “I like the smell of that new shampoo.” He added calmly. Anthea whipped around quickly on her toes to face her boss. “Did you buy it for your date last night?” He teased. Anthea held up a finger, pointing at him with a warning. She tried to look menacing and annoyed, but the naughty smile on her face gave away her amusement.

 “Don’t.” She warned though her vibrant eyes and cheeky grin. Mycroft smirked in return, eyes sparkling.

Who else could infuriate her and entertain her on such a level as he could? Who else could not only match her wit, but beat her? How could she even attempt to be with someone else when this worked so well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? Alright? Not a letdown? This took more work than most chapters usually do. Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed writing it, it just took a lot more to get done right. I hope it’s okay. Let me know.
> 
> Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays to those who celebrate out December related events :). Hope you had a wonderful time, and thanks for improving my year so much.

**Author's Note:**

> So? How was it? Okay? Man, I hope it met expectation. Actually, I hope it was at least just as good at the original version of the chapter. Writing Mycroft chapters are always such a gamble because I never know if they will be good enough. I had fun writing it, and that’s usually a good sign… but I just owe you guys a lot for 1500 reviews on FFN and at least 500 comments on here, and I hope this was worth it. Don’t forget, part two will be around Christmas.
> 
> A big thanks to everyone who has ever read “A First Time For Everything”, even just skimmed a few pages, even those who started and never came back. You all are awesome, and you inspire me every day. Thank you for being the drive this whole year for me to continuously work on my writing because writing makes me happy, and the Sherlock fandom makes me happy.


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